Why I love Mary Karr

I'm reading a book loaned to me by my dear friend John J, brilliant writer, painter extraordinaire, and paternal muse-figure, called This is my Best, an anthology of what various modern writers consider their best work. It runs the gamut from John Updike to Garry Trudeau--short stories and novel excerpts and poems and cartoons.

I entered a memoir phase around 1993 and wrote nothing but, taking courses on the form and eventually writing a nonfiction book about my first year teaching in inner city Houston, called First Lessons. I took it to the agents conference in 1998, hiding my pregnancy with Emily beneath a slenderizing shirt and unbuttoned slacks, and after a mere five rejections, landed an agent. We never sold it, but I had a wonderful time with the process and did not feel terribly disappointed. It still remains a favorite work of mine.

During this time I read and met two wonderful memoir/creative nonfiction writers: Mary Karr and Marion Winik. Both were inspirational in their own way. I'll never forget walking up to Mary at the Book Festival upon her publication of the sequel to The Liar's Club, a book aptly called Cherry, and she pointed to a more youthful portrait of herself on the older book's back cover and said, "I think I look more fabulous now!" I loved her upbeatness, her wit. She exuded fun. And she'd certainly endured plenty--her hometown blasted her after the publication of her first memoir. And still, she signed books, exuberant.

She used an excerpt from Cherry in this collection of shorts. In the introduction, however, she used a phrase that made me laugh out loud. It is just so Mary.

"A girl's ardor at age thirteen doesn't mean she wants to be boffed into guacamole, as it's been suggested that boys of that age wish to be."

What an image. Mary handles sex--especially underage sex--so well. The intro of her excerpt is beautifully done with the perfect adjectives to give just the right tone of pre-adolescent heart-throbbing.

"I've been sitting in the crotch of this itchy damn tree with my feet dangling down so long they both feel like concrete. I shinnied up here to find John Cleary in the park..."

I feel inspired. But not necessarily to write. I think I have to end this post now, to find my dearest one and pound some avocado.